


Pretty Enough to Warrant Flower Theft

by altodebeep (AltostratusPlunge)



Series: The Things We Do For Love [1]
Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, Characters will be added as they appear - Freeform, Death, Depression, Family Issues, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Other, Past Character Death, Post-Canon, Post-Pacifist Route, Rating May Change, Reader Is Not Frisk, Slow Build, Tags May Change, Warnings May Change, but im trying to aim for slice of life, it depends on the plot, reader doesn't act their age, reader is a bit immature tbh, reader is not good at socializing, suicidal ideations
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-01-25
Updated: 2016-01-25
Packaged: 2018-05-16 03:21:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,131
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5811763
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AltostratusPlunge/pseuds/altodebeep
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>So what if he holds the deed to the land? A flimsy piece of paper and a few additions don’t make it his garden.<br/>But how are gonna make the Monster King understand those flowers don’t belong to him?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Pretty Enough to Warrant Flower Theft

**Author's Note:**

> **13 Nov 2016 "Update"**  
>  Heyyyyy there..... >~>;  
> Thank you for reading my fic! (though I hesitate to call it that...as it isn't anywhere near done)  
> Listen, I have been frozen in place in fear of completely fucking this up so I'm going to start over.  
> Same premise, new start. I've learned a few things while I've been procrastinating.  
> One of them? I can't do the pantsing thing for more than one chapter. I can't. I need planning or I get lost in possibilities and self doubt which is basically what happened here.  
> So I'm going to try to write the whole story using a different method, and once I have at least five (5) chapters written and edited and five more drafted I'll start posting on a weekly basis. Not sure when, as I'm waiting on a job offer. (hooray and also shit >~

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So maybe you did steal his prized echo flower, but it's the least he could do after invading the garden.

You glare at the house as you approach it. The familiar shade of yellow has been recently replaced by a pastel green. Two years of effort painted away, just like that. You decide that pastel green is now your least favorite color.

"Who waits a month after moving in to paint a house?" You mutter, stomping across the carefully manicured yard when you see an empty space in the driveway.

"Well I guess you won't mind if I just help myself to a few extra flowers this time," you smirk, pulling a pair of garden shears from your backpack as you reach a vibrant bush of brown and yellow flowers.

You spend a minute to look for any diseased leaves or stems. As usual, there are none. You frown and carefully cut a flower, admiring its bright color against the grey of the overcast sky and whisper, "Adding some sunshine to the fall."

You nod once and gingerly place it down on the neatly trimmed lawn. Not noticing the soft click of a door behind you, you bring the shears up again.

“I guess," _snip_ "Reed is gonna," _snip snip_ "get a whole bouquet," _snip_ "of Lemon Queens" _snip snip snip_ "this week." _sni_ -

"So you are the _root_ of my disappearing flower problem," a smoky voice thunders from behind.

Your shears fall beside the pile of sunflowers. You don't dare turn around despite the glare you can suddenly feel burning into your back. That rumbling voice sounds like it would belong to a behemoth. You bite your lip.

“Howdy," the gruff voice continues, "I'm Asgore. Just who might you be?"

You consider fleeing, but your fear frozen legs dash that plan. What reason would the _King of Monsters_ have for moving here? Didn’t royalty prefer castles or something equally grand?

He’s silent for a while, clearly expecting _some_ sort of response. You chew on your lip, resisting the urge to apologize profusely, and turn away from the flowers painfully slow.

You’d heard that the Monster King was a pretty big guy. Had seen a picture or two when you bothered to flick through channels for some background noise. But even if you _had_ been paying the news any mind when the monsters emerged from the infamous Mt. Ebott, you wouldn’t have been prepared to face their _king_ towering over you by several feet. Not even your distracted indifference could keep you from knowing the weight behind Asgore’s title, crown sitting on his head or no.

The frown on his bearded, goat-like face and muscles clearly hulking through his blue sweater sends your heart racing. It feels ready to burst through your chest and run off without you like the traitor it is. You open your mouth to say something, anything, but can’t seem to find your voice.

Your entire body must be conspiring against you today.

Asgore’s broad shoulders seem to slump. He coughs into his hand. “So...whoever you’ve been stealing those flowers for must be pretty special.”

You shakily nod your head and try to steady your breathing, chewing on your lip. You should have expected to be caught by whoever invaded the house eventually.

“You know...I would gladly let you keep the flowers if you would introduce me to them,” He volunteers, rubbing the base of one of his horns. Has he ever impaled anyone with them? “It would be nice to know who has been receiving the flowers from my garden.”

Your fists curl. Not _your_ garden, _majesty_.

You glance at Asgore’s massive, furry-white hands. Or is the correct term paws? Either way, they could probably crush your head as easily as an egg in a split second.

“Y-you can’t,” you manage to cough out.

The burly monster brings his arms up, splaying his fingers. “Peace, human. I mean no harm.

 **Toe beans**. Holy shit, the King of Monsters has t **oe beans** on his **hands**. You briefly consider booping _his majesty’s_ palms the same way you would do to your best friend’s cat. A hysterical laugh bursts from your dry throat before you can stop it.

You try to cover your mouth, but it doesn’t help. Maybe today’s the day a sinkhole would spontaneous appear below if you’re lucky.

You have no such luck and at some point, Asgore had walked over to you. He blocked the gentle autumn breeze like some sort of wave breaker for wind.

A wind breaker, if you will. 

Nope. Nope. You might be facing jail time if you don’t get it together. Move on.

You look up and flinch. The concerned pout on his face nearly sent you right back into a laughing fit. Maybe your feet would be a better anchor.

“Truly, I mean neither you nor your friend any harm.

You clench your teeth. He couldn’t hurt them if he _tried_.

“I would simply like to meet-”

“No.” You interrupt. Your voice still isn’t quite back.

How a beefy giant like Asgore can manage a kicked puppy, you don’t know.

Guilt gnaws at your chest. Maybe you can throw him a bone.

You grit your teeth. “Reed.”

“Beg your pardon? He brows are furrowed. Rather intimidating on someone of his stature, but at least looking at him doesn’t make you feel like a prick now.

You pick the garden shears from the ground and shove them into your backpack. “These flowers are Reed’s.”

Did his eyes just twinkle?

“I would hardly call these lovely sunflowers _weeds_. Although, the Helianthus tuberosus is a rather invasive species,” Asgore chuckled, kneeling down to help you pick the Lemon Queens from the ground.

You nearly crush the flowers in you’ve just gathered. Was that a _pun_?

His fanged smile confirms it. You glare at the meaty hands absolutely dwarfing the blooms he’s picked up.

In a silent demand for the other half of the Lemon Queen bouquet, you reach your free hand out.

His smile tightens and he pulls the flowers away from your reach. “Forgive me for being so forward, but could I possibly walk with you?”

Something about his eyes just scream _this isn’t a request_. Maybe you could just punch him and run?

He’s too tall, though. Besides, he would probably have diplomatic immunity if he decided to use those hulking muscles of his against you. And he still has the other half of the bouqet. You’ll be damned if you give him the satisfaction of keeping any more of Reed’s flowers.

“Sssuure…” You say, slowly backing away. “Just...uh...follow. Follow me….I guess?”

The two of you walk a block and a half in awkward silence. A couple of times, Asgore opens his mouth like he wants to say something. His clear discomfort is a slight victory, even if it makes your insides squirm and itch a little.

Just a _smidge_ , _really_.

Totally worth it...

Asgore breaks the heavy silence, “The _two_ of you should join me for tea.”

You bite back a sarcastic _I doubt you want a corpse over for tea_. His _highness_ probably wouldn’t take that comment too kindly.

“My child Frisk baked many cinnamon butterscotch pies. They were determined to learn the recipe from their mother,” His face was beaming. “They gave quite a few to me the last time I went over for a visit.”

“Are you fond of Earl Grey Tea? It would pair well with the pie. Drinking it makes each bite as enjoyable as the first.”

He’s serious about the tea invite? You shoot Asgore a confused look. He apologizes and asks if you are allergic. You assure him you aren’t, but you try (and fail) to reject the invite.

The two of you walk another few blocks in uncomfortable silence.

“When I first moved in,” Asgore says, rubbing the base of a horn. “I was worried the neighborhood might be unsafe…”

This is the nice part of town. Why would it be unsafe?

Asgore suddenly looked so tired, “The sold sign my realtor had so gleefully erected was vandalized the night before move-in.”

You trip, guilt hitting you like an oversized gavel. Shit. You could practically smell the _leave_ you had drunkenly spray-painted on the sign last month.

“There was an angry human waiting in my driveway the day I moved in.”

She _didn’t_.

She had been….berating the poor moving truck driver when I pulled in.” He shook his head. “I stepped out to try and diffuse the situation. She took one look at me and ran. I had expected a…’ _welcoming committee_ ’ to pay me a visit later.”

Well that explained why Devon has suddenly been trying to convince you to stop your ‘pointless flower routine’. Neither of you had expected Asgore to be the one potential buyer you would fail to drive off.

Not that you would let his title would scare you off now. You wouldn’t let some chump take Reed’s flowers, too. Even if that chump happened to be a powerhouse with a crown.

“My Head Guard Undyne insisted on waiting them out with me, but nobody came.” He had a small smile.

Is he telling you this because he knows you were involved?

“She destroyed my kitchen sink that morning when she was preparing some tea for breakfast. Undyne received an impromptu shower from the sink. I suppose you could say,” There’s a definite twinkle in his eyes. “it...caught her off _guard_ ”

Asgore breaks into a smug smile when you stop walking for a moment.

“I almost wish Undyne hadn’t recruited her friend Papyrus to aid her in combing through the house...the harmonica on the ceiling fan likely would have made an a _muse_ ing little melody.”

You take a deep, deep breath. Just how many pranks had Devon set up?

“Although…” There’s a look in his eye you can’t quite place. He couldn’t possibly pun again so soon, could he? “For all the ruckus those two raised, they managed to miss a single prank.

The cemetery entrance was only two blocks away now.

You tug at your hoodie string. He’s going to think this is another prank and you aren’t sure how to feel about that.

Holy shit what if he thinks _you_ were behind all the pranks? Maybe you _should_ just stop picking these flowers for Reed. Just long enough for Asgore to forget- oh who are you kidding there’s no way he’s just gonna let this go.

Asgore’s chuckle pulls you out of your thoughts, “-and I smelled like chicken soup for two whole weeks. The smell refused to wash out of my fur no matter _how_ much soap I used.”

So _that’s_ what Devon did with your chicken boullion cubes.

“Aside from a few harmless pranks,” Asgore says. “The only other odd occurrence has been the mystery of flowers disappearing from my garden once or twice every week…”

It’s not _your_ garden, you want to say.

“Tell me, human,” he sounds so tired. “Are you and your friend truly opposed to my presence here?”

You freeze. Oh.

How did you not realize it earlier? The _king_ of monsters thinks you’re a monster hater.

But that’s what happens when you keep youself in a stupid little bubble. 

When you stubbornly plop yourself down into your selfish little world.

“Yes,” you blurt, and wince. Shit. That came out wrong. “I mean no. It’s not because- it’s just- It isn’t what it sounds-”

Asgore’s shoulders are slumped and his eyes may as well belong to a puppy you kicked.

Dammit why can’t you just up and _say_ what you need to!

The iron cemetery gate is only a few feet away. Maybe you could find a cozy hole to dive headfirst into. 

Yeah. That sounds like a good idea right now. Plus you could talk to Reed again. Maybe.

You force take a deep breath.

“These flowers are Reed’s,” you try again, but he still doesn’t understand.

“I’m not- I’m not. Stealing.” you murmur, rearranging the bouqet despite the uniformity of the Lemon Queens.

You force yourself to take several deep breaths and look at the King of Monster, “These- these flowers don’t b-belong t-to you.”

His eyebrows knit together, in anger and confusion. At least you hope it isn’t _just_ anger. He looks like he wants to say something.

“Sorry,” you blurt. “Just. Please. Follow me?”

You look at the ground, waiting on that sinkhole you ordered ages ago. No? Too bad.

You reach the headstone sooner than usual. You practically ran after asking the monster king to follow you. He easily kept up with you.

“H-hey Reed,” you wheeze. Your throat is dry and you’re not sure if that’s because you brought a stranger along with you or because you’re out of shape. “I brought you back some- some of your sunshine like you a-asked.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [UPDATED] Yep. I finished chapter 1! Thank you for reading the thing I wrote!   
> My pc is busted, so I'm using my phone to write/post this. I've tried to keep s lookout for typos, but if you spot them I would be grateful if you tell me.
> 
> I was not expecting to write an Asgore/Reader fic, bit here we are. (I blame the garden-centricness of the prompt)
> 
> Original idea from awful-aus. Specifically awful au #196.  
> Sometimes I steal flowers from your garden on my way to the cemetery, but today you’ve caught me and have demanded to come with me to make sure the “girl is pretty enough to warrant flower theft” and I’m trying to figure out how to break it to you that we’re on our way to a graveyard au.

**Author's Note:**

> 19 April 2017  
> I haven't really...abandoned the fic per se? Actually, I'm still hanging onto the darn thing despite seriously considering doing that at one point, but I just can't let this story go.  
> Truth be told, I'm still terrified of writing this yet.   
> Your comments warm my shriveled heart, and I am so sorry to disappoint you with this ridiculous hiatus.


End file.
